Retribution
by Holstered .38
Summary: COMPLETE! A mystery visitor late at night plunges Gibbs into a whole heap of trouble and intrigue, especially with an assassin on the loose; and the assasin has one of the team in his crosshairs... Please read and review - thanks.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Leroy Jethro Gibbs reached out and caressed her frame. It was a calming experience, a far cry from his job as lead NCIS investigator; solving crimes involving naval and marine personnel and their families. He practically lived in his basement. Every moment he got, he spent it with her. She hadn't a name yet, but apart from the wife and daughter he had once lost, he loved nothing more than being with her. Gibbs picked up a sanding block and eased it up and down her third rib, going with the grain. He had thought long and hard about choosing a name for his boat; things like 'Alimony' (after his three ex-wives). Another option had been 'Kate'. Kate Todd was the only agent he had ever lost on his team at NCIS. She had dived in front of him, taking a sniper's bullet. Her Kevlar jacket had protected her from any serious injury and he owed her his life. Unfortunately, the sniper, Ari Haswari, was not so grateful, and repaid her valour with a bullet through the skull.

Instead, he had settled upon 'Shelly' as a name. A contraction of the two names that had meant so much in his life, Shannon, his first wife, and Kelly, his eight year old daughter. He had lost them too to a sniper's vengeance. The marine who had been protecting both of them had been shot dead whilst driving, and the resulting car crash had killed Gibbs' family whilst he was a marine serving in Kuwait during 'Desert Storm'.

A shrill ringing tore Gibbs away from his painful reverie. He flicked open his cell and was greeted by a woman's voice.

"Did you purposefully want to make me look a fool in front of the SecNav, Jethro?" came the irate blast.

"Oh, hello Jen," Gibbs smiled. He knew he should be at the award presentation and that he was to receive a commendation, but he hated those black tie events.

"I have been waiting for you to pick me up for the last twenty minutes. I don't suppose you have even changed out of your sweats and runners yet, have you?" Again Gibbs smiled as he looked down at his attire. Jen knew him so well; it was as if they were in video conferencing. "You should see me… This dress cost me a fortune and I intend wearing it, and you are going to be the one whose arm I am on!"

It wasn't an order. Director Sheppard just had an uncanny way of getting Gibbs to conform, although it was not always quite the way she'd like.

"I'll take you to dinner at 'Ristorante Tosca', downtown," she pleaded.

Gibbs caved. "I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

Director Jennifer Sheppard had once been his partner and now she was his superior, a situation that could and does lead to some intriguing differences of opinion, which are usually concluded by Gibbs getting or doing what he wanted without the director losing face.

Gibbs quickly showered and put on his white shirt and black tuxedo. He looked smart. Even he had to admit it. He just wished that he didn't have to wear this stupid tie. It took him five minutes alone to tie it so it didn't look like a complete novice had tied it! At last, he was ready. He picked up his keys and his cell and moved toward his front door. He was, however, somewhat startled to be confronted by a pale and sweaty man clasping his stomach.

"Agent Gibbs…help me!" the man stammered.

The mystery man collapsed forward onto his knees. As Gibbs reached out to save his fall, the man subversively slipped something into Gibbs' breast pocket.

Blood coated the victim's hands and Gibbs could feel the warm sticky liquid ooze through his fingers as he held the dying man in his arms. A shot rang out in the quiet street like a clap of thunder from a fierce storm. Gibbs ducked back inside his front door, his sidearm raised ready for a fire fight. The next few seconds ticked by without incident. Cautiously, Gibbs returned to the man on his door step. He reached out and placed two fingers against the side of the man's neck; there was no pulse. The man was dead…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The stroboscopic effect from the NCIS investigation truck illuminated not only Special Agent Gibbs' house, but half of his neighbourhood too.

"For once Mr Palmer, you didn't manage to get us lost!" the medical examiner sarcastically congratulated his assistant.

Dr Donald 'Ducky' Mallard was positioned over the corpse, carefully examining it to determine his preliminary cause of death. His assistant, Jimmy Palmer, was on hand to help with the body's removal.

Gibbs stood alone, watching his team sketch and photograph the scene, a fresh carton of Starbucks coffee in his blood streaked hands. His cell phone rang pulling him from the no-mans-land his consciousness had taken him to. It was the director again, only this time she wasn't ringing to argue over his tardiness.

"Jethro, are you ok?" She didn't wait for a response, just kept going with her one sided conversation. "Do you have any idea who this man is, and why would he come to you, especially at your home? You were extremely fortunate that its not you that your team are scraping off your front step!"

Gibbs knew she cared. They had once been more that just partners and, although nothing had ever come of it, he sometimes wondered – what if…

Ducky and Mr Palmer loaded the victim into the back of their coroners vehicle, ready for transport back to the NCIS morgue where upon Ducky would perform the autopsy.

Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo approached his boss just as the call ended. "Are you okay boss?" he asked sympathetically. Gibbs looked at him as if to say 'what do you think?' There was a silent conversation that passed between both men where each knew exactly what was said.

"What have we got, Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"The victim doesn't appear to have any ID on him, but the uniform suggests that he's a lieutenant and, judging by the wings, a naval aviator."

"Check all missing persons; what navy ships are currently docked in the area that have a flight crew – one of their pilots is missing, someone should notice!"

"On it boss."

"MCGEE!" Gibbs yelled.

The youngest agent on the team came straight away. "Boss?"

"I want a full reconstruction of tonight's events. How was he shot; how long had he been roaming the streets before he got here; did he drive, take a cab, was he shot and dumped, or was he shot around this area? However it happened I want to know."

"On it boss."

"Ziva!" Gibbs called out to the remaining member of his team only to notice that she was stood beside him. Gibbs admired her skills as a former Mossad agent, especially as now that she worked under his supervision. "I need you to collect the clothes that I'm wearing." Ziva looked at him somewhat dubiously. "They need to go to Abby. She may be able to lift some trace evidence off of my clothes. But first, I have to get back into my house to get some fresh clothes."

"We have finished out initial investigation and I'm sure that you removing your clothes will not affect the case."

Gibbs stared at her. They both knew what she meant, but Ziva's English still had a few rough edges that meant she'd say things incorrectly or phrase them in such a way that they could have a completely different meaning.

The two agents entered Gibbs' house mindful to step around the area where the victim had lain. Upstairs, Ziva snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves and placed Gibbs' vest, shirt, pants and shoes carefully into separate evidence bags whilst Gibbs adjusted his attire into something that more suited his marine background.

"Do you have any idea what this man wanted?" Ziva asked, curious to hear Gibbs' response.

Gibbs stopped what he was doing and stared at her incredulously wearing only a pair of boxers.

"I guess not," she concluded.

"Y'think!"

Ziva hastily finished bagging Gibbs' tuxedo and left the room.

The NCIS offices were running on a skeleton crew of graveyard personnel when Gibbs arrived. He was holding another fresh carton of coffee in his hand along with three similar cartons all balanced precariously in a reconstituted cardboard 'tray'.

"Okay, what have we got?" he asked as he entered the bull pen.

"Our victim's name is Lieutenant William Thorpe, a naval aviator aboard the USS Henry S Truman. Joined the navy in '98; married with two children." Tony began as he displayed Thorpe's personnel record upon the large plasma screen in the middle of the office.

McGee continued the report by showing a piece of video footage shot from a nearby CCTV camera.

"This was taken from the security camera outside The First National Bank's ATM two blocks away. There's Thorpe," McGee pointed to the decedent. He was running along the street looking back over his shoulder regularly. "He's running from someone," Ziva observed.

"But who and why?" Gibbs wondered.

Seconds later, a dark coloured Toyota cruised into view. The occupants' faces were not clearly visible, it would take Abby and McGee to digitally enhance the image before any of the occupants could be identified.

Autopsy was quiet, save for Ducky's musings. His enthusiastic assistant Jimmy Palmer stood opposite his mentor collecting and labelling samples as they were taken during the post-mortem. Gibbs entered autopsy through the automatic doors nearest the elevator.

"What have you got for me, Duck?"

"Ahh, a very interesting case, my dear Jethro. Our deceased was shot three times." Ducky flicked on the light boxes which in turn illuminated a series of x-rays. He highlighted two bright white uneven globular specks in the victim's upper torso and identified them as bullets.

"There are only two bullets; you said he was shot three times." Gibbs corrected.

"He was!" Ducky confirmed as he returned to the body. "Excuse me, Mr Palmer," Ducky moved between his assistant and the corpse to show Gibbs the wounds. "The first bullet penetrated here," he pointed to a hole in the middle and slightly to the left of Thorpe's spine. "It struck his ribs as it entered. I found fragments of bone where the bullet splintered this poor chaps' ribs. The second, and I believe fatal bullet, entered here," Ducky pointed to a second hole. "The bullet clipped his left scapular and then pierced his heart. There was a small knick just above the aorta valve. The rupture caused massive blood loss and internal haemorrhaging, exsanguination and death. I have sent both bullets to Abby for ballistics check. The last time I saw a case such as this was…"

"What about the third bullet?" Gibbs was trying to be patient, but patience was not one of Gibbs' most well known qualities.

"Oh yes, the third bullet… A bit of a mystery there," Gibbs frowned as Ducky continued his monologue. "It was a through and through and, judging from the lack of blood pooling around the entry and exit sites, I'd have to say that they were post mortem. He was dead before the bullet penetrated his chest!"

"There was a shot fired when I opened my door – so whoever it was had to be waiting. You know what this means Duck? The shooter is a sniper!" Gibbs concluded. "And, the bullet is still out there…"

The forensics lab was, as usual, reverberating to the sound of gothic rock music. Abby was bent over her electron microscope analysing the trace evidence collected from this case when Gibbs entered.

"How y'doing Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"I think I must have slept awkwardly last night because the muscles in my shoulders are really tight..."

Gibbs looked at her and she changed the subject immediately. "The bullets retrieved from our dead Lieutenant are consistent with a 9mm Browning semi-automatic. The striations indicate that both bullets were fired by the same weapon."

Gibbs smiled at the young forensics tech gently and massaged her shoulders. Abby smiled gratefully.

Tony lay back in his chair with his feet resting upon his desk. Ziva and McGee exchanged glances as they overheard his conversation.

"Just remember, that the blue one suits you best, but I'm certain that you'd look fantastic in anything…I can't wait…of course I'll be there…"

"Are you baby-sitting tonight, Tony?" Ziva asked sarcastically.

"No! I was talking to…never mind," Tony retorted.

"It's a little late to shut the stable door once the pony has left, no?"

"That's horse and it's bolted!" Tony corrected. "And I don't think so!"

Gibbs swung in from around the corner of the bull pen. "That's right Dinozzo, you don't think!"

Ziva smiled at Tony's crest fallen expression as she returned to her desk.

"Dinozzo, Ziva, I want you out at the crime scene."

"We've checked out the area boss and…"

Tony's words were severed by Gibbs'. "I want you to check it out again!"

"What are we looking for boss?" Tony asked.

"Ducky found three bullet holes, but only two bullets. There's another piece of evidence out there relevant to this case."

Ziva and Tony armed themselves with their side arms and made their way to the elevator. As they left, Gibbs' phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"I think I have something that will rock your world!" Abby declared.

"I'm on my way." Gibbs hung up his phone. "McGee, you're with me, Abby's got something!"

Downstairs, Abby was waiting for them. Gibbs' tuxedo was carefully laid out over one of her examination tables.

"Abs?"

"What, no drum roll?"

"Do I look like Ringo Starr?"

"More like…"

"Abs!!!"

"Okay. I was going over your tux, very nice by the way. I'm sure the director would have loved you in this… Anyway, I found this in the breast pocket." Abby showed them a small rectangular computer chip.

"It's a memory card from a digital camera!" McGee interrupted.

"Correct!" Abby acknowledged.

McGee snatched the memory card out of Abby's hand and placed it in the card reader.

Gibbs and Abby walked around to the large plasma screen whilst McGee tapped away on the computer keyboard to display the card's contents. A series of photographs flashed upon the screen frame by frame. Initially, the photos contained family shots of a woman and two children on a family day out. Then the images underwent a dramatic transformation. Gibbs now understood why someone had wanted Lieutenant William Thorpe dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The images, although not entirely clear, depicted three men engaged in a heated discussion that was evidently escalating out of control. A weapon was drawn and then fired causing one of the group to fall to the ground – dead.

"Wow, no wonder someone was after our lieutenant!" declared McGee.

"Y'think! Abby, can you get a better look at their faces?"

Abby returned to her computer controls and centred in, firstly on the victim.

"I know that face… It's Gunnery Sergeant Greg Kovak! He and I served in Desert Storm together."

Abby and McGee exchanged glances. Gibbs never spoke of his time as a US marine in Kuwait.

"What about those two?" Gibbs asked pointing to Kovak's aggressors.

Abby, once again, focused upon the facial areas of the digital pictures and enhanced the image.

"Find me everything you can about those bastards. That's no way for a marine to die!"

Gibbs strode out of the lab leaving Abby and McGee somewhat dumbfounded by his reaction.

You'd barely know anything untoward had happened there, in the street. Only the bright yellow crime scene tape and the lone police vehicle gave any hint to last night's commotion. Ziva and Tony crossed over the fluttering tape barrier.

"This will be like looking for a pin in a haystack!" Ziva sighed.

"A needle," Tony corrected.

"Oh sorry, this will be like looking for a pin in a needle."

Tony looked exasperated but let Ziva's incomprehension of English idioms slide as he took out the manikin from the back seat of their car. Ducky had identified the trajectory and position of the bullet and Tony had fitted the 6"1' dummy with a laser probe. Tony stood where Gibbs had been standing and held the dummy in Thorpe's last known position. Ziva tracked the bullet's path downward. It passed within a fraction of an inch of where Gibbs had been standing. A thought occurred to both agents – had the final bullet been meant for Gibbs?

Ziva found the bullet hole. The bullet had ricocheted off the wall and passed through the window into Gibbs' basement. Ziva and Tony peered through the pane and could see the distinct outline of a boat hull.

"I'll tell you what," Tony began. "You go get the bullet and I'll find the shooter's nest."

"Why do _I_ get to do the retrieval?"

"Because _I _am the senior field agent!"

Ziva grumbled something in Israeli that Tony knew was uncomplimentary even though he could not speak the language.

The basement was cool and eerily silent. Only the fragrant aroma of wood made it more inviting. Ziva shone her torch around the room. She identified the single pane of glass that had been shattered by the projectile she was now seeking. Scanning her torch across the ribs of the boats' hull she found what she was looking for. Lodged in the wooden strut was the missing bullet. Ziva reached into her pocket and pulled out her knife. As she did so her mind silently recited rule number nine – 'Never go anywhere without a knife.' Gibbs had a series of rules he trained his team by, each of them important when investigating a crime.

Ziva cut around the point of entry until the bullet could be plucked from its final resting place.

Meanwhile, Tony was scouting around the rooftops of the adjacent buildings. He found what he was looking for, a scuffed boot impression on the gravel roof one house over. A feint outline existed where a sniper had lain in wait for his victim to emerge. A single brass shell stood alone upon a piece of paper marked 'GIBBS R.I.P.' in thick marker pen.

Tony pulled out his cell and rang Ziva.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

"Oh yes! You'd better bring the camera; we are going to need to photograph this…"

"If the shooter was lying in wait, he couldn't have known that Thorpe was going to show up here…" Ziva surmised. "Thorpe wasn't the target…"

"Nope. He was after Gibbs!" Tony agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Gibbs was sat alone at his desk in the bull pen writing up his report from the previous evening when Ziva and Tony returned.

"What did you find out?" Gibbs asked.

"We retrieved the bullet from…" Ziva was about to say that she had cut a large chunk of wood out of Gibbs' prize boat when she thought better of it. "From the scene."

Gibbs looked at her curiously. He was aware that she was hiding something. "Did you have to cut a large section of wood out of her hull?"

Ziva couldn't understand how he had known and it made her feel exceedingly uncomfortable. Tony knew his boss had this sixth sense ability and smiled scornfully at Ziva until he realised that Gibbs was now staring at him. "Er," he hesitated. "Boss, we also found the snipers nest. Tony held up an evidence jar containing the shooter's brass. "And, we also found this…" Dinozzo offered the evidence bag containing the note to his boss.

Gibbs took the note and read it. Without warning, he slammed his fist on his desk making both Tony and Ziva jump. "A navy lieutenant died because some bastard was pissed off with me!" Gibbs spat. "I want to nail this guy!" he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his six-hour, checked the clip and secured the weapon in his belt holster before making his way to the elevator.

Tony watched his determined boss and decided that his place was at Gibbs' side. "Here," he tossed the evidence they had collected at Ziva. "Get these to Abby PDQ."

"You want me to take my palm pilot to Abby?"

"No! PDQ … Pretty Darn Quick!"

Tony squeezed between the closing elevator doors just before they pinged closed. "Where are we going boss?"

"The USS Henry S Truman is currently in port at Norfolk, and we are going to find the reason Lieutenant Thorpe was murdered!"

Even though most of the crew were on shore leave, the USS Henry S Truman still buzzed with activity. Engineers and fitters busied themselves on repairs and maintenance as Gibbs and Dinozzo made their way to the bridge where the captain was finishing up his duties.

"Captain Ryan Morris?" Gibbs enquired.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Special Agents Gibbs and Dinozzo, NCIS." Both agents offered their credentials and identifications.

"Okay, what can I do for NCIS?"

"Last night, one of your lieutenants was murdered – Lieutenant William Thorpe."

The captain, shocked by the news asked "What happened, how?"

"He was shot. We think these men were involved." Gibbs pulled out two photographs Abby had printed for him of the two men featured on Thorpe's memory card. "Do you recognise either of these men, Captain?"

"This man I've never seen before," he indicated the tall dark haired figure in the first picture. "But, this is Petty Officer David Weston. He's an aviation maintenance engineer."

"Is he still on board?" Dinozzo asked.

"Yes. He's been assigned to overhaul the F-14 engines."

Gibbs and Tony turned on their heels after thanking Captain Morris for his co-operation.

Meanwhile, a mysterious figure lay under the dark blue Stratus and, with a sharp knife sliced into the brake cable. Fluid steadily dripped from the severed connection.

The aviation maintenance room held approximately a dozen men, each of whom were working steadily upon the aircraft within.

"Excuse me, where can I find Petty Officer David Weston?" Gibbs asked one of the mechanics.

"He's just gone topside to get a replacement reburner ignition diffuser, sir."

"How long ago was that Ensign?" asked Tony.

"About fifteen minutes ago. Is there a problem sir?"

Gibbs' cell rang. It was Abby, but the reception was so poor he snapped it shut again in frustration and headed back to the dockside.

Standing on the quay the reception was little better, but at least he was able to hear more of what Abby was saying.

"Hey Gi..s. The bullet Ton…me…fingerpr…casing belongs to a former…ty Officer Carlos Sanchez."

"Great work Abs! Is McGee there?"

"Hold o…"

"Yes b...ss?" McGee answered.

"See what you can find out about this Sanchez and get me all you can on a Petty Officer David Weston."

"Petty Officer Heston?"

"Weston!" Gibbs shouted.

"On it b…," McGee replied defensively as Gibbs terminated the conversation and replaced his cell phone in his overcoat pocket.

Dinozzo joined Gibbs on the quay. "I spoke with the other members of the maintenance crew, seems Petty Officer Weston was a bit of a loner. On shore leave he'd go off alone. He's not married and there doesn't appear to be a girlfriend waiting anywhere."

"Okay, sounds like we need to find out exactly what our petty officer _does_ do with his spare time. Come on Dinozzo."

**KABOOM!** An explosion sent alarms and sirens sounding aboard the 'Truman'. Gibbs and Dinozzo ran back aboard the ship. The aviation maintenance bay was heavily clogged with smoke. Several men were tackling a fire on one of the F-14 Tomcat engines; two men were being treated for burns and other wounds, one of which was the ensign they had spoken with five minutes earlier. He was badly hurt, but alive.

"Did you see who was working on that aircraft, sailor?" enquired the COB who had arrived at the scene only seconds before NCIS.

"Weston, sir." The crewman's voice was dry and raspy.

"Where is he now, son?"

"I'd say he's long gone COB," Gibbs intervened.

Another crewman rushed up to the chief of the boat. "Sir, there's been another explosion!"

"I didn't hear another," the COB declared.

"It's the repository, sir. It's empty!"

Gibbs, Dinozzo and the COB ran down the corridors hurdling the 'knee knockers' en route to the repository.

It was true. The door to the safe had been blasted open and now just stood ajar, its contents clearly removed in a hurry.

"Where is the dispersing officer?" the COB asked.

"We found him a moment ago, sir. He'd been knocked out. Whoever had hit him left him in the aft 'head'," responded the crewman.

"How much did you have on board?" Gibbs enquired.

"Approximately three quarters of a million dollars!" sighed the chief of the boat.

"Isn't that rather a lot to remain on board in port?" Gibbs asked somewhat amazed.

"The collection was scheduled for this afternoon. We were called back to port because of a malfunction in the aircraft launch gear that couldn't be fixed at sea."

"Who reported the fault?" Tony asked.

"Petty Officer …Weston!" realisation suddenly dawned on the senior ship's officer as he stared at the empty safe.

Gibbs picked up his cell and dialled the lab.

"Abby?" the connection was poor so he hadn't realised he was actually talking to McGee. "We're bringing you some explosive fragments." The line went dead. McGee looked quizzical.

"Who was that?" Abby queried.

"Gibbs." Abby punched McGee on the upper arm. "Ow! What was that for?" he asked innocently.

"Don't answer my phone!" she snarled and thumped him again.

"What was that for?!" he asked again.

"Because it was Gibbs – now what did he want?"

"He said something about bringing in bits of an explosive."

"Great!" Abby smiled. "Science and forensics – kind of gives you a kick in the pants like a 'Caf-Pow!' in the morning!"

Gibbs and Dinozzo climbed into their Stratus and exited the naval base. Neither agent noticed the patch of brake fluid beneath the vehicle.

The freeway was unusually quiet so Gibbs gunned the accelerator; he only drove at one speed – fast!

"Er, boss, don't you think you ought to slow down a bit?" Tony queried.

Gibbs checked the speedometer, it read 105mph. He pressed down on the brake – nothing happened! Again and again his foot depressed the central brake pedal to no avail.

"Dinozzo! Buckle up, this is going to be a rough ride; we've got no brakes!"

Gibbs weaved in and out of the sparse traffic expertly but, it was not slowing them down, and they both knew the road into Washington was downhill. The handbrake proved futile against their velocity.

"We need to get off the freeway!" Tony exclaimed.

"Y'think, Dinozzo!"

Unexpectedly, Gibbs slung the steering wheel to the right, crossing three lanes of traffic, and drove down the off ramp. The side roads were little better as, again, Gibbs careened the Stratus around cars reversing from their driveways, pedestrians jay-walking and slower moving vehicles. Gibbs noticed an old track and drove directly at the gates that barred their passage. The meagre chain that held the gates shut against trespassers was no match for the bolstered speed of the NCIS sedan. The ride became rough but their speed was diminishing. Gibbs changed down the gears to aid their deceleration. A raised rock clipped the left front wheel which exploded causing Gibbs to lose control. The Stratus barrel rolled down an embankment finally coming to rest back on its wheels a couple of hundred yards from the track.

Gibbs blinked hard, his head was throbbing. He reached up and lightly touched his forehead. His fingers returned daubed in blood. Gibbs looked over at his colleague. Tony was unconscious, his head lolled over onto his chest.

"Dinozzo…Tony!" he shook Tony's shoulder in an attempt to wake him. He checked his pulse; he was alive. A distinctive odour wrestled his nostrils – gasoline! "C'mon Dinozzo, we've got to get out of here!"

Tony stirred as Gibbs removed their seatbelts and proceeded to drag him from the wreckage. His own wounds hampering their progress. When both agents were about twenty feet away the Stratus exploded into a ball of flames, knocking both men off their feet. Tony lay on the ground unresponsive to Gibbs' attempts to bring him around. Gibbs took off his shirt and ripped off a sleeve. Using his knife he slit the material length ways to produce some make-shift bandages. Tony's left leg was a mess of blood, ripped jeans and splintered dash-board after the crash. Carefully, Gibbs bandaged around Tony's wounds using his belt as a temporary tourniquet. Next, he flipped open his cell. It was smashed and useless. Gibbs hurled it at least fifty feet then began to rummage through Tony's pockets until he located his phone then dialled for an ambulance. Gibbs' military first aid training was enough to keep Tony alive short term, but he knew his colleague needed proper medical assistance if he were to save Dinozzo's life.

As he was going through Dinozzo's pockets he had come across the evidence bags taken from the USS Henry S Truman. "Well done Dinozzo. Well done…" Gibbs uttered. The evidence they had collected earlier had not been lost in the explosion!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

"How is he, doc?" Gibbs asked the surgeon as he pulled down the facemask and left the operating theatre were he'd been working on Dinozzo.

Abby teetered up behind her friend wearing a pair of high-heeled platform knee-high leather boots, black fishnet tights with 'fashionable' additional holes, a black pleated mini skirt and a black and red t-shirt with the slogan:

'Vampires bite,

and so do I…'

emblazoned across her chest. Around her shoulders she was wearing an NCIS field jacket belonging to McGee who was trailing behind her by about five paces.

"Any news on Tony?" Abby asked immediately.

"Well," began the doctor.

"Is Tony okay, boss?" McGee interrupted.

Gibbs silenced them both with a stare before returning his attention back to the doctor.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but the prognosis is good. The wreckage from the accident has damaged the muscles and tendons in his leg but, with rest and physiotherapy, I see no reason why he shouldn't make a full and complete recovery."

"Thanks doctor," the three NCIS personnel chorused.

Gibbs, McGee and Abby stood around Tony's bed gazing down at their semi-conscious colleague.

"Hey Tony," Abby greeted, tears welling in her eyes and emotion snatching her voice. Gibbs put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Tony looked around from face to face, finally coming to rest on Gibbs who bent down and whispered quietly "Good job, Dinozzo!" Gibbs straightened up, looked down at Tony again and in a voice the whole group could hear joked "I'll make sure one of the nursing staff come and give you a sponge bath!"

"Thanks boss," Tony smiled as he eyed a couple of pretty young nurses head in his direction.

Gibbs turned to leave, got halfway and stopped to talk to a severe looking woman in her early fifties and pointed to Tony, before continuing on his way out the door. "McGee! Abby! Time to go!" he called.

"No! No boss, you can't do this to me…Haven't I suffered enough?" fear and panic clouded Tony's thoughts as he had visions of the 'dragon' nurse getting way too familiar with his anatomy. "Boss, don't do this to me!" Tony's words had fallen on deaf ears because Gibbs, Abby and McGee were gone.

Outside the hospital, Gibbs stopped and handed Abby the evidence bags Tony had salvaged from the wreckage that was their car. "Abs, I want you to tell me what you can about these," he gently shook the bags enough to make them flutter in midair, but not so much that its contents could jingle together. "McGee, you go with Abby. I'll use your car…"

McGee looked sceptically at his boss.

"Is there a problem Special Agent McGee?" Gibbs enquired in his intimidating 'in-your-face' manner.

"Er, no boss… It's just that my car isn't quite what you're used to…" McGee handed over his keys attached to a key chain that claimed 'computer operators use both hands'.

Gibbs stared at the novelty fob. McGee blushed involuntarily as he tried to defend himself. "It was a gift from a friend of mine…"

McGee and Abby climbed into the front seats of Abby's hearse and pulled away. Gibbs looked down at the keys in his hand; he was looking for a BMW. He counted the parking bays until he found the one he was looking for and, as McGee had suggested, the car parked in the space was not what Gibbs was expecting. It was a Mini Cooper! "McGee…" Gibbs cursed. "At least Dinozzo has a car with a driving seat that isn't intended for an 'Elf Lord'!"

Ziva was in the middle of a telephone conversation when Gibbs entered the office. "That's right," she stated. "I'll let him know."

"Let me know what?" Gibbs startled the female agent as she scribbled her notes onto a yellow sticky pad sheet.

"That was ballistics. The rounds we retrieved were from a Smith and Wesson 9mm. Metro PD found the weapon when they arrested a man called," she checked her notes, "Karl Brooks." Ziva flashed up his criminal history onto the plasma screen together with a photograph taken at his arrest. It showed a tall balding man in his late forties and pure hatred in his eyes.

Gibbs turned from the screen, something was obviously bothering him. "Ziva, check did Brooks have any family – a son in the marines?"

Ziva keyed in Gibbs' query and a name popped up – Sergeant Raymond Brooks. "His son was killed in Kuwait when Iraqi soldiers ambushed their unit."

"Who else was killed?"

Again Ziva searched the database. "Corporal Alan Reines. The rest of the unit seem to have survived the attack."

"Greg Kovak and I were on the recon mission for that unit. When we returned to base we were too late," Gibbs reminisced.

"Many men died during the occupation, you cannot feel responsible for every death out there…" Ziva's words were of little comfort but Gibbs knew she was correct.

"I want Brooks brought over here for questioning." Gibbs instructed. Ziva was immediately on the phone to Metro PD to organise the transfer.

Brooks sat alone in the Spartan interrogation room. He showed no outward signs of anxiety or fear. Instead he just stared blankly at his own reflection in the one-way glass, but Gibbs could see it; the malevolent anger that had led to the series of events which had already claimed two lives.

Gibbs entered the interrogation room carrying a manila file in one hand and a carton of coffee in the other. He pulled out the opposing chair, turned it away from Brooks and straddled it with his folded arms resting on the chair's back. Gibbs tilted his head to one side as he watched Brooks' unwavering expression.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" spat Brooks as he turned to look his interrogator in the eye. "What you don't seem to comprehend is that I have lost everything… My wife, my son, my whole life is gone and there's nothing you can do or say that will change any of that, is there?"

"No. No, I can't change the past, but _you_ have the power to change the future…" Gibbs responded calmly.

This tone seemed to unnerve Brooks, making his expression soften from the harsh vengeful features into a sad and lonely grief-stricken soul. Gibbs placed the crime scene photographs taken of the two shooting victims in front of his suspect. Brooks looked down into the stony expressionless faces of the two corpses and immediately had flash-backs to his son. His mind tricking him into seeing his son, Ray, as the dead man in both photographs. His eyes began to well with tears as he broke down.

"He shouldn't have been there. He was only a kid!"

"I know," Gibbs comforted. "So was Lieutenant Thorpe."

"What do you know? Sat there in your fancy office, what do you know about losing a son?"

He knew alright, but Gibbs wouldn't elaborate. It was still too painful to think that he had let down his wife and daughter whilst he had served in Kuwait. "Who's the other person in this photograph?" Gibbs showed the image taken from the memory card.

"Kovak, that bastard let my son die; and so did you! I'm not saying anything without a lawyer," his hostility renewed.

Gibbs scooped up the photographs and left Brooks to grieve alone, his gut telling him Brooks was not a murderer.

Gibbs' cell rang as he exited interrogation, it was Abby.

"I've got something," she offered simply.

"On my way," he responded equally.

Abby was stood alongside her computer waiting when Gibbs joined her in the lab. She was smiling as McGee continued to tap away at the computer he was working on.

"_I_ have identified the two mystery men in the image!"

"Petty Officer David Weston," declared Gibbs.

Abby scowled at him. "You know, I really, _really_ hate it when you do that!"

"Yeah, I know," Gibbs responded with a cheeky smile. "So who's the other guy?"

At that moment the forensics lab doors opened and Ziva entered. "Samuel Reines," she announced.

"Some days," Abby muttered. "I wonder if you guys actually need me at all…"

Gibbs leaned over and kissed Abby on the top of her head. "Just wouldn't be the same without you Abs! Call me if you get anything else…"

No sooner had he taken a couple of paces than his cell rang.

"I've got something!" Abby smirked and Gibbs rejoined her at the computer. "The bullet casings Tony and Ziva found from the rooftop across the street had an unusual grey residue on them." She clicked a few buttons and a gas chromatograph printout was displayed on the plasma screen. There was a definite peak approximately one third along the graph. "The results show very high concentrations of the chemicals found in C4 -cyclotrimethylene trinitramine (RDX). I have checked the chemical configuration against the fragments collected from the 'Truman'…"

"And?" Gibbs asked expectantly.

"No match. The explosives used on the F14 were not compatible with the C4 found on the bullets."

"So, Sanchez is out there building a bomb and we have no idea what or where his next target will be…" Gibbs surmised.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

The phone on Gibbs' desk was ringing when he, Ziva and McGee returned from Abby's lab. Gibbs snatched up the handset and growled into the mouthpiece. "Gibbs!"

His expression altered dramatically as the short one-sided conversation continued. He slammed down the phone and immediately loaded and holstered his six-hour from his desk drawer.

"Ziva, McGee, with me!"

"What's up boss?" McGee asked.

"Someone has abducted Tony from the hospital!"

The hospital was buzzing with doctors, nurses and security personnel when Gibbs and his team arrived.

"McGee, go check the security footage."

"On it boss!"

"Ziva, go interview the nursing staff. Find out the last time anyone checked on Dinozzo."

"Sure."

"Excuse me," Gibbs stopped one of the doctors scuttling along the corridor. "Where can I find Dr Meyers?"

"Down the hall to the right," he answered and continued on his rounds.

Dr Meyers was sitting at a table in the middle of the room with her head in her hands staring deeply into the bottom of her coffee cup when Gibbs entered the doctors' lounge, her long russet hair masking her face.

"Dr Meyers?" enquired Gibbs.

"Erm, yes that's me."

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." The grey haired senior agent identified himself showing his federal badge and ID.

Dr Meyers rose from her chair and offered her hand. Gibbs accepted it with a firm shake.

"Dr Meyers," Gibbs began.

"Please call me Amanda," she interrupted.

"Jethro," he reciprocated. "Amanda, can you tell me what happened the last time you saw Special Agent Dinozzo?"

"I had been in his room to check on his recovery after the surgery to remove the fragments of metal and plastic from his leg. The stitches seemed to have taken well and the pulse in his foot was strong. Anyway, I realised I had left his chart in his room so I went back to collect it; I needed to review his medication. That was when someone struck me from behind." She lightly fingered the egg-sized swelling at the base of her skull and winced.

"Did you see who it was who hit you?"

"No, I'm sorry. But I did see the other man."

"There were two of them?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. He was white, about 6'2" – 6'3", brown hair, 140-150lbs, mid thirties, oh and he had a tattoo on his right forearm – an anchor, I think. I'm sure it was an anchor."

Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph of David Weston. "Is this the man you saw?"

"Yes. That's the man!"

"Thank you Amanda."

"Say Jethro, once you've found your agent, maybe you and I could go for dinner someplace?"

"Yeah, that would be good," Jethro smiled. He definitely liked this woman and it was clear to him that she liked him too.

Gibbs was met by Ziva in the hall. "The nursing staff here have all given the same eyewitness accounts. Two men in red orderly uniforms wheeled Tony down the corridor towards x-ray. They had all assumed it was part of his treatment as he was scheduled to have his leg x-rayed sometime this afternoon," she reported.

"Boss, boss," panted McGee as he raced toward Gibbs and Ziva bumping into medical personnel en route. "I've got the security footage," he waved an encased CD as he approached. "You should see the technology down there. They've got the XC5000 with digital encapture features."

Gibbs halted McGee's en-awed tirade. "What did you find out?"

"Unfortunately, the cameras outside Tony's room weren't in operation; something to do with scheduled maintenance."

"What?!" Gibbs ranted.

"But," McGee continued. "The cameras covering all the entrances and exits did pick up Tony and two men leaving the building."

"Did you identify either of the men with him?"

"One was Weston, the other was Reines. They put Tony into a silver panel van, but I need to get back to my computer to identify the licence."

"And you are still here because…"

"Because, you've got the keys, boss!"

Gibbs tossed the young agent the car keys with a sheepish grin. "C'mon, let's go."

McGee was approximately ten to a dozen paces in front of Gibbs and about the same distance from the NCIS car when he pressed the lock disable button on the key tab. The subsequent explosion lifted the vehicle off its wheels and several feet into the air together with an eruption of flames and choking black smoke. The adjacent cars too, were knocked sideways, their windows sending out a shower of glass fragments like hazardous confetti at a wedding.

McGee, Gibbs and Ziva were all flattened by the blast. Gibbs and Ziva suffered merely superficial wounds, where shards of glass had sliced into their face and hands. McGee, on the other hand, had come off worse. He lay on the floor face down, not moving.

"Are you okay?" Gibbs asked Ziva as he picked himself up off the floor. She checked herself over and responded positively. "McGee!" Gibbs called out as he noticed Tim lying motionless. He ran to his side and instructed Ziva to get some medical assistance. He rolled McGee's limp body over, fearing the worst. Tentatively, he felt for a pulse – he was alive!

Director Sheppard entered the examination room with Ziva as Gibbs was receiving his last plaster strip across his lacerated eyebrow.

"So, who have you pissed off this time, Special Agent Gibbs?" smirked the director.

"Oh the usual, my ex-wives, international terrorists and a psycho-bomber who's trying to kill me…" Gibbs grinned. "How's McGee?"

"Dr Meyers is with him now in cubical three," Ziva responded.

Gibbs hopped down off the examination bed, picked up his jacket and strode into cubical three.

McGee was having a penlight flashed in his eyes by Dr Meyers when Gibbs entered the room.

"McGee, you okay?"

"Yeah boss," he replied.

"No," countered Dr Meyers. "He has a concussion and I'd like to keep him in for observation. Fortunately, it appears that Agent McGee raised his arm to cover his face from the blast; otherwise he'd be in the morgue rather than our A & E! Do you have _special_ training at NCIS in how to get yourselves killed?" Meyers asked sarcastically.

"Nope, they're like that before they get to us!" Gibbs countered with a wicked smile. "McGee, you still got that CD?" McGee rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out the disk still safely encased in its cover. "Great, I'll get it to Abby and she can go over it."

"It's okay boss. I'm not going to just lie around here whilst Tony is out there somewhere…" McGee's voice trailing away as he realised what he was about to say.

Gibbs looked at Amanda and smiled. "Now _that's_ how we train our people!"

"Just one thing before you leave," Dr Meyers intoned seriously. "Agent Dinozzo needs to take care. If his stitches rip open he could bleed to death."

"How long?" Gibbs looked concerned.

"Hard to say…an hour, maybe two."

The video footage clearly showed Dinozzo being wheeled from the hospital by two men. Although compliant, it was obvious to those watching the replay that Tony was taken against his will. Abby zoned in on a section of the frame, the muzzle of a handgun was just about identifiable nuzzled into Dinozzo's ribs by Reines.

"Can you get the licence?" Gibbs requested.

McGee hammered away at several keys on Abby's computer. Slowly, the image zoomed in and re-pixilated until the van's registration was visible – KPZ 510.

"Vehicle is registered to a 'Kane and Abel Trading Company'. They own a warehouse on Henderson – unit 51." McGee informed them.

"How's the arm?" Gibbs asked.

"Good enough to go with you," he answered.

The director was waiting for them in Gibbs' chair when they returned to their office. "If you carry on like this Jethro," she began "we are not going to have _any_ vehicles left! Here are the keys to your new car." Director Sheppard handed over the keys reluctantly. "Promise me you will look after this one…"

"Cross my heart," Gibbs crossed over his heart with his right forefinger to emphasise 'his word'.

The parking garage echoed to their footsteps as the three agents made their way to their latest vehicle. What they saw made Ziva chuckle and McGee snigger. Gibbs turned on his heel and marched straight back up to the director's office. He didn't wait for Cynthia to announce him, he just barged in.

"I suppose you think that was funny, Jen? I can't go chasing criminals and terrorists in – in that monstrosity!"

Director Sheppard tried to mask the fact that she was enjoying Jethro's discomfort at the situation, but failed miserably. "Oh, I'm sorry Jethro, but it's the only vehicle we have left that hasn't already been assigned or blown up; and it _is_ only temporary…"

As a disgruntled Gibbs was about to leave her office her tone changed to one of sincerity. "Jethro, bring Tony back safely."

"Don't worry Jen, I'm not going to lose another agent," he vowed.

Back in the parking garage all three agents climbed into the VW Beetle. The engine took a moment before it caught; sending blue oil-filled clouds billowing from its' tail pipes and a resonating racket like a chain-smoking bullfrog arrested their ears. Rubber streaked the basement floor as the tyres squealed trying to keep traction with the asphalt.

The warehouse stood quiet and dark; all the exits locked shut. "McGee, check round the back." Gibbs instructed.

With weapons drawn, the NCIS agents readied themselves for a violent confrontation. Gibbs counted down silently from three; on what would have been zero, he kicked venomously at the door just below the handle. The wooden frame splintered against the full force of Gibbs' muscular onslaught allowing them unconditional entry.

"Clear!" called Ziva as she rounded from the office on the right. Gibbs continued on through the building with Ziva on his six. McGee approached from his right poised ready to meet any unknown threat with deadly force.

The centre of the warehouse held the prize they were looking for – a silver panel van, licence KPZ 510.

"This is the van boss," McGee whispered. All three agents closed in on the van; Gibbs and McGee taking the cab whilst Ziva concentrated her efforts on the rear.

"Freeze – NCIS!" Gibbs instructed loudly. The cab was empty. The rear of the van was vacant too.

"I think you are going to want to see this…" Ziva called to Gibbs. The interior of the van contained a large pool of blood…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Gibbs checked his watch, it read 1413hrs. He was acutely aware of the time frame Dr Meyers had given him in which to save Tony's life.

"The engine is still hot." Ziva announced. "So they have not been gone long."

"Boss," McGee called out. "I've got a blood trail." He raised his weapon again as he followed the direction of the droplets and smudged drag marks. They led to a stack of barrels situated in the far corner of the warehouse. Gibbs joined his probationary agent covering his approach just in case the trail was part of a trap. What met their eyes was neither pretty nor what they had expected. David Weston was sprawled across the floor, two bullet holes in his chest.

Gibbs' cell rang moments after the grisly discovery; it was Abby.

"Gibbs?"

"Yes Abs, what's up?"

"The explosion at the hospital was from the C4. I've matched the chemical characteristics to the trace we found on the bullet casing Tony retrieved from the rooftop." Abby explained.

"Good work Abby!" Gibbs congratulated.

"Any news on Tony?" she asked expectantly.

"None yet," he reassured her. "We will find him Abs; _I'll_ find him," he promised.

"I know…" she replied. "Just be careful."

Gibbs could hear the tremors in her voice, her genuine concern spurring him on. He replaced his phone in his pocket as he and Ziva searched the van and McGee went through Weston's pockets trying to get a lead on where they may have taken Tony.

"I've got a car rental receipt," McGee exclaimed. He dialled the number and enquired about the vehicle and the person or people who rented it. "The rental company say it was a dark green Chrysler Alpine, registration KBH 8368 rented to a Samuel Reines." McGee reported after he finished his conversation with the duty manager at the rental company. "And, the vehicle has 'Lo-Jack'!" he smiled.

"Good work McGee!" Gibbs praised.

McGee went out to their car and fired up his laptop. Gibbs got behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over but didn't start.

"Come on," Gibbs persuaded the temperamental car.

"Maybe, you should talk to it like they do in the 'Herbie' movies," suggested McGee.

Gibbs couldn't believe what he had heard. Dinozzo was usually the one who'd refer to different movies during their investigations – and now McGee wanted him to 'talk to the car'?! Gibbs pumped the gas pedal and turned the ignition several times more – still nothing. He looked at his watch, it now read 1427hrs. Again, he looked at McGee who encouraged his boss to try his suggestion. Gibbs couldn't believe what he was about to do, but he knew he couldn't waste anymore time trying to do it his way. "Dinozzo needs us – come on, start…" he turned the key again and the robust little car belched into life. The wheels span, leaving tyre tread residue on the ground as Gibbs gunned the accelerator. He couldn't believe it had worked; he was just glad it had!

The GPS position blinked on McGee's laptop, they were headed for Grass State Park along Route 101.

The gap was closing. Reines was obviously sticking to the speed limit so as not to draw attention to himself. Suddenly, the GPS indicator showed Reines had left the freeway and was now headed for the woodland along Mud Bay Road West. Reines was headed for Louise Lake! Gibbs knew this was not a good sign and pushed the little bug as hard as its engine would take. "Come on," he urged under his breath.

"There!" pointed Ziva from the back seat. Ahead of them they could see the brake lights from the green Alpine through the dust trail behind it. The time was now 1456hrs. The accelerator pedal was flush to the floor and they were making ground on the Alpine. The terrain was rough and the pursuit was on. Reines must have realised he was being chased as he veered to the right and snaked around the pot-holes. The Beetle was not so nimble and Gibbs managed to find most, if not all, of the ruts and craters along the way. The suspension was rigid, so Ziva and McGee were catapulted around in their seats like laundry on an economy cycle.

Suddenly, the Alpine swung around ninety degrees and blocked the 'road'. As Gibbs turned the corner he saw the green car blocking their path and stomped on the brakes. All the NCIS agents were armed with their weapons trained on the Alpine ready for action as they exited their vehicle.

The car was empty; the driver had taken off on foot. "McGee…" Gibbs instructed. "Check the car."

Ziva followed Gibbs into the wooded area. The senior agent's tracking skills proving an advantage as there were no visible signs of their quarry.

McGee skirted the car, checking that no-one was hiding on the far side ready to ambush him the moment his focus was altered. He could see the outline of a figure beneath a rug on the back seat, beside it a dark blue holdall. "Come out with your hands in the air," commanded the young agent. The figure remained motionless. Again McGee instructed the fugitive to exit the vehicle, but the passenger still didn't move. Cautiously, McGee pulled the rug from over the mystery person's face. It was Dinozzo! His limp body tied and gagged on the back seat. McGee pulled his colleague from the car and removed Tony's bindings. Tony groaned as the blood returned to his cramped limbs grateful to be free of his incarceration. McGee returned to the car and checked out the holdall. Inside were bundles of $50 and $100 bills.

"The missing money from the 'Truman' I suspect," Tony surmised groggily.

"Looks like it," agreed McGee.

Gibbs and Ziva edged their way through the woods following the trail left behind by Reines. "Give it up Reines!" called Gibbs.

A scurrying sound and the snapping of a branch attracted the attention of the pursuers. Ziva and Gibbs split up to try and corner Reines, each of them acutely aware that they may be walking right into an ambush.

A small wood cabin nestled in the undergrowth was barely visible amongst the trees. Silently, Gibbs approached using the brush as cover. He lay watching for movement from within the building, someone was inside. He could hear raised voices but not the content. Suddenly, a shot rang out followed by a loud thud. The shot echoed through the forest.

Gibbs could see Ziva on the far side of the cabin; she too had heard the commotion and the gun shot. The two NCIS agents communicated silently through marine sign language so they each knew their plan of attack.

A rifle barrel levelled out of the window, the crosshairs settling upon Gibbs' body. A finger gently caressed then squeezed the trigger. A bullet exploded from the muzzle of the weapon…

Ziva stood behind the body, her smouldering six-hour still raised in the position in which she had fired the shot. The body on the floor was lifeless. Gibbs entered the cabin through the front door and looked at the corpse; the blood oozing from the wound in his chest staining the floorboards a deep crimson. "You okay?" Gibbs asked. Ziva nodded and re-holstered her weapon. Gibbs turned the body over. It was Carlos Sanchez. Reines, too, was dead.

"Looks like Sanchez was here to collect his pay-off from Reines," Ziva surmised. "And when he brought more than just the money…"

"Sanchez left no witnesses!" Gibbs concluded.

Back outside the cabin, Dinozzo was becoming more lucid, the painkillers wearing off and the agony taking hold. "McGee, call an ambulance." Gibbs instructed.

"Already on its way, boss."


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

The ambulance took Dinozzo back to the hospital with Gibbs riding shotgun. "Thanks for coming along, boss." Tony appreciated his boss joining him on the trip back to the hospital to make sure he was alright.

"It's not a problem Dinozzo. I needed to meet Amanda anyway…"

"Amanda?" Tony queried then remembered that Amanda was Dr Meyers.

At the hospital Dinozzo was wheeled off back to the ward as Gibbs put his arm around Dr Meyers' shoulders. "How do you fancy going to see a movie tonight?"

"Sure," she responded positively. "What did you have in mind?"

"How about 'Herbie – Fully Loaded'?!"

Two weeks later, Dinozzo ran across the garage, a crutch in his hand, to catch the elevator before it ascended to the upper level. As the doors pinged open at his floor he hobbled into the bull-pen making the most of his recent injury vying for the sympathy vote from Agent Farrell.

"Ah Agent Dinozzo, how are you feeling? Here let me get you a chair," she offered sweetly.

"Oh, not so bad," he replied emphasising the agony in his tone. "I'll be back to normal in a few weeks. The doc' says I just need some TLC."

"That's a pity," she consoled. "I have tickets to see 'Tainted Lust' this weekend, and I was hoping that you could have come with me, but it looks like you are in too much pain…"

"No, it's not really that bad. I _love_ 'Tainted Lust'," Tony pleaded. He removed his crutch to prove to her that he was fine only to have Gibbs clip him at the back of the head.

"Rule number eight – 'Never take anything for granted!' Especially agents on crutches!"

The End

By Holstered .38


End file.
